


Henry Knew

by pawprints_on_the_moon



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28968006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawprints_on_the_moon/pseuds/pawprints_on_the_moon
Summary: Henry justknew.Alex just needed to catch up.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 58
Kudos: 165





	1. The Olympics

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy a little escapism today :)

Henry had no energy. None. And yet, appearances must be upheld and somebody had to represent the crown for these international events. Besides, Bea had insisted that the sunshine in Rio would pull him out of the funk he was in. Loss is a funny thing. Like, that moment when you misplace the novel you were about to finish and it reminds you of your chronic existential crisis and misplaced sense of purpose. Similarly, a handsome boy from Oxford had just decided that secretly fucking His Royal Highness was ‘just too much,’ and that relatively insignificant loss reminded Henry of his father’s death just 14 months previous. 

So, with a heart heavy with grief and the bitter aftertaste of another failed, secret gay affair, Henry found himself surrounded by thousands of people next to an Olympic swimming pool. The cacophony of voices bouncing off the tall domed ceiling was over stimulating enough before Henry spotted the first son of the US. His smile was brighter than the Rio sun and his black curls flopped over sparkling brown eyes. It overwhelmed Henry. He was so alive, and even from far away that amount of life force was contagious, lighting a small spark in Henry’s dark heart. He knew, even from a distance, that love from a boy like that would set him on fire, and that after such a fire, losing him would leave Henry a pile of ashes. He resolved to keep his distance.

But, of course, the First Son of the US approached him.

“Hey, I’m Alex,” said the beautiful boy. Alex’s brown eyes raked him up and down, making him feel as scantily clad as the Olympic divers. This boy was anything but subtle. Henry couldn’t find words and Alex’s confident smile almost faltered. “My mom’s running for US President?”

His brown hand was outstretched and, remembering his manners, Henry shook it. Alex’s hand was dry and warm and just this small touch sent a hurricane of butterflies through Henry’s stomach. He quickly let go and wiped his hand on his pants to help shake off this absurdly instant attraction.

“Right. Henry.” He fixed his gaze on the yellow flower in Alex’s pocket. “Me, I mean. I’m Prince Henry. Of Wales.”

“I know.” Alex stepped closer and Henry spared a glance up to his face. Those eyelashes had to be illegal. “You’re taller than I would have guessed from your pictures. Broader shoulders too.” Again Henry couldn’t find words and Alex continued. “Pleasure to make your royal acquaintance.”

“Pleasure,” Henry replied. God, the way Alex was looking at him was practically indecent. Surely, everyone in the stadium could tell that he was checking Henry out. Surely, if he stayed to hit on Henry some more the poor prince would cave in and be destroyed. 

So Henry turned away and quietly pleaded with Shaan to get rid of him. Shaan led Alex away and as they left, Henry spared him one last glance. The first son looked rather put out and Henry could understand why. A guy like _that_ certainly wasn’t used to rejection.

When Henry got back to his hotel that night he spent more time than he would ever willingly admit combing through social media to find out everything he possibly could about Alex Claremont-Diaz. He was surprised to find that nowhere online did it reference Alex being attracted to men, which was strange considering he was a liberal Democrat and so _obviously_ queer.


	2. The Cake-tastrophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they saw each other at Royal Wedding, Henry knew and Alex had no clue.  
> Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you decided you wanted more and that truly puts a skip in my step. Thanks for the kudos and comments.  
> You're the best.  
> (Because sections of this story are basically canon from Henry's POV, you may recognize some of the dialogue as Casey McQuiston.)
> 
> Happy reading!

Prince Henry of Wales was experienced with skillfully navigating the world of international cooperation. Alex, however, kept refusing to cooperate. His eyes continued to burn whenever he looked at the prince and though he pretended they burned with loathing, Henry knew better. Yes, the first son was closeted, but Henry’s gaydar was well honed after years of being in the closet himself. 

So when Alex mocked his accent, Henry saw through it. He wondered if Alex had a thing for all English accents, or just his posh one. He didn’t take the bait though, because he couldn’t risk Alex knowing that the attraction was returned. 

When Alex threatened to push him into the Thames, Henry saw through that too. He reckoned the First Son just wanted to see him soaking wet, clothing clinging to skin. He remained determinately polite, careful not to give Alex any encouragement. 

Again and again they would meet and Alex would approach him and pretend to hate him while Henry would act civil and disengaged. Alex was never as forward as he had been at the Olympics, but Henry knew that the American still wanted him. He just _knew_. He was sure that Alex’s interest was purely sexual and not at all romantic, but it still took everything not to succumb and just let Alex seduce him. But, as Henry was practiced in the arts of suppressing emotions, he could hold strong. Well, just so long as Alex pretended to hate him. 

But when Alex approached him at the Royal Wedding, Henry’s resolve faltered. The prince had been sulking about how someday soon _he_ would be forced to have a wedding just like this one. When Alex interrupted his thoughts by talking about champagne fountains, it was a welcome distraction. As usual, the first son was horribly rude and hopelessly obvious. The way he leant his elbow on Henry’s shoulder; clearly an excuse to be near to him. Over the years Henry noticed that Alex had a habit of invading his personal space.

“Do you ever get tired of pretending,” Alex said. Henry almost nodded before Alex finished his sentence. “you’re above all this?”

Henry hated the assumptions that Alex was making, but he let him continue, if only because he liked the way his voice sounded like worn leather and citrus. He imagined that Alex’s lips might taste like desert sunsets and champagne. When Alex removed his elbow from the prince’s shoulder, he yearned for Alex’s scent to linger in the air around him. He didn’t often get a chance to drink up the beauty of this boy in person, and as long as Alex was talking, Henry had a perfectly valid excuse for looking at him. Also, Alex seemed to think that Henry hated him, which was achingly incorrect.

“...doesn’t that get exhausting?”

“I’m…” Henry stopped. He had been about to say ‘I’m exhausted’ before remembering that he couldn’t be vulnerable to the ticking time bomb that was Alex Claremont-Diaz. “... a bit more complicated than that.”

Alex was drunk, but he was cute. He was obnoxious too, but that had never quelled Henry’s crush in the past.

“Sorry I’m not obsessed with you like everyone else,” said Alex. “I know that must be confusing for you.”

“Do you know what?” Henry replied. “I think you are.”

He hadn’t meant to say that, but he smirked as Alex’s jaw fell open, his eyes widening with surprise. It was an uncharacteristically rash thing to say, but Alex’s blatant denial of his obvious attraction was begging for a contradiction. Despite Henry’s resolution to never confront Alex about his feigned disinterest, in this moment he was tired and it just came out. He was exhausted from dancing with girls, hiding the truth from the media, and parading around a ridiculously ostentatious wedding, all in order to maintain his royal image. In this moment he craved honesty.

“Only a thought,” Henry continued. “Have you ever noticed that I have never once approached you and have been exhaustively civil every time we’ve spoken? Yet here you are, seeking me out again.”

As Alex began to stammer denial, the prince felt exposed. Though he kept his emotions carefully concealed, his heart was racing. He never should have said that. What if Alex openly admitted that he was attracted to him? He wouldn’t be able to resist. Or, much worse, what if Alex disproved his theory and he had been wrong about their mutual attraction all along?

But Alex didn’t confirm or deny anything. Henry’s brain was speeding at a million questions per second. At the beginning of their conversation, Alex had revealed that he didn’t understand why Henry had danced with June. How could Alex not empathize with the need to convince the public of his heterosexuality? This was a shared experience, was it not?

But… perhaps Alex hadn’t noticed that the prince was gay? Henry knew from embarrassingly extensive research that the first son was smart, but yet Alex hadn’t guessed that the dance with June had been a ruse. Sure, Henry tried to hide his sexuality, but the obviously queer boy that had been hitting on him for years had to have guessed the prince’s orientation. Right? 

Because, if Alex didn’t know that Henry was gay, why would Alex hold onto any interest in him? Although, come to think of it, why was Alex so antagonistic all the time anyways? It was almost as if he was in denial, as if he couldn’t admit their chemistry to himself.

Overwhelmed and highly aware of the crowd around them, Henry turned to leave. 

“Have a lovely evening, Alex.”

Next thing, Alex was grabbing his shoulder, stumbling backwards, and knocking a $75,000 cake onto the floor. As the cake smashed to sludge, Henry’s quick mind drew three correct conclusions:

One: Alex had no idea that Henry was gay. Two: Alex had no idea that he himself was attracted to men. Three: Alex was completely and utterly oblivious about his infatuation with the Prince Henry of Wales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter won't be so canon reliant, I just felt like this moment was so important for Henry's understanding of the enigma that is Alex and I just wanted to be in Henry's mind for it. Get prepared for some more original dialogue (texting!) behind the scenes fun, and considerably less angst.


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex gave Henry his phone number and said "no booty calls." This chapter is full of not-booty calls.

Henry knew that he couldn’t interfere with or hasten Alex’s journey of self discovery, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for Henry to stifle the fantasies he’d been having for years. Fantasies where Alex would take his hand, kiss his palm, and admit his feelings. He imagined telling Alex everything he knew about Queer history, teaching him all the brilliant things two men can do with their bodies. Though it would be a disaster, he wished he could help Alex figure it all out. Though it would be a disaster, he wishes Alex would just figure it out on his own already.

There is something incredibly seductive about somebody wanting you desperately, even if they don’t know about their feelings. Henry knew that Alex longed for their long texting conversations as much as he did and when Henry sent him mirror shots, he knew that Alex must unknowingly be wishing the prince was shirtless in them. It was fortunate that they're an ocean apart, because if they spent any real time together, even the hopeless first son would notice their undeniable chemistry. Disaster. The whole thing reeked of inevitable heartbreak.

At some point Henry decided that they could be friends.

Because it would all be okay, as long as Alex kept thinking they were just friends. Friends that text every day, every hour. They memorized each other’s sleep cycles and had a constant stream of conversation going. Henry never left his phone unattended and every time he got a text he hoped it was from Alex. They talked about anything and nothing, and every morning Henry sent Alex a snap of himself having his tea. Alex would often respond with a selfie in bed and Henry would have to take deep breaths and try not to encourage him too much. 

But the truth was, Henry’s heart skipped a beat every time Alex initiated a conversation.

_ Alex: Nora made me delicious cookies _

_ Henry: Biscuits, you mean. _

_ Alex: stop being so british _

_ Henry: I’m the Prince of Wales, Alex. Being British kind of comes with the territory.  _

_ Alex: they’re really good cookies :-P _

_ Henry: Can I have one? _

_ Alex: hmmmm think you can fly across the ocean before the melty choc chips get cold? _

_ Henry: Probably not… _

_ Alex: would you if you could? _

Henry didn’t respond to that right away.

_ Henry: Ugh, now I want cookies. Why would you mention cookies when I can’t have any? Rude. _

There was a double meaning there, but Henry was fairly certain that Alex wouldn’t pick up on it.

_ Alex: it was a conversation starter _

_ Henry: Well it’s a rubbish conversation starter. _

_ Alex: yeah? well we’re conversing, aren’t we? checkmate bitch _

Alex was so himself. The guy completely lacked a filter and seemed to have no problem exposing to Henry the innermost depths of his mind. The way he’d seek out playful arguments was like watching a fifth grade boy flirt, but it was endearing. Henry found himself opening up as well, despite his better judgement. He loved the way Alex casually used pet names, and he melted when Alex gave him his full attention, which he frequently did. Sometimes Alex would text him with ‘xoxo’s.

Henry was so eager (and apprehensive) that even the mention of LGBT filled him rushes of excitement. It was one of their slow conversations that intermittently interrupted their busy day. Replies were squeezed in between meetings and classes, and this constant texting back and forth was the dizzying background track of Henry’s life.

_ Alex: Where do I find a best friend like Pez? _

_ Henry: Grinder. _

_ Alex: lol no really. How did you meet him? _

_ Henry: At a drag show in Soho. _

_ Alex: noooo really?? _

_ Henry: You’re surprised by that? Pez is the epitome of pansexual, Alex. He’s also vaguely genderqueer and very polyamorous. Sure, you haven’t met in person yet, but you couldn’t possibly not have noticed that from his Instagram. _

_ Alex: yeah duh i totally knew that ;) I wasn’t born yesterday sweet cheeks _

_ Henry: Of course not.  _

Sometimes it got even more dangerous:

_ Alex: yo, what's your type? _

_ Henry: Kind, driven, brunette, dumb, good sense of humor _

_ Alex: oh, that sounds kind of like me... too bad I'm not a girl lol _

_ Henry: ...did I mention dumb? _

_ Alex: yeah _

_ Henry: Ok just making sure. _

On those days it was both painful and reassuring to know how completely clueless Alex was. On other days Alex would be completely on point:

_ Alex: what ya doin? _

_ Henry: I’ve just finished my dance class and am taking David on a walk in the rose garden. _

_ Alex: are you singing to the birds?  _

_ Henry: Indeed, a lovesick ballad about wishes coming true.  _

_ Alex: *gif of Snow White with a bird on her finger* you ever get sick of being a fairy princess? _

_ Henry: That’s fairy prince, thank you. _

_ Henry: And yes, I often wile away my days in the tallest tower, yearning for my true love. _

_ Alex: o be still my beating heart *audio recording of Alex singing ‘someday my prince will come’* _

Of course, Alex had no idea how on point he was. Henry rolled his eyes, shoved his phone back in his pocket, and had that stupid Sleeping Beauty Disney song stuck in his head the rest of the day. 

One night, he was lying alone on his golden bed, staring at his phone and thinking about Alex. He typed words into a text...

_ “You’re beautiful.” _

_... _ but never send it. He backspaced and took a breath before typing something else… 

_ “I really like you.” _

...and back space again. He loved how he felt like he was teetering at the edge of a precipice. The risk that his thumb might accidentally hit ‘return’ teased him. Enticed him.

_ “Maybe we could be a thing?” _

But no. Backspace. He scowled and threw his phone down to his mattress in frustration. A second later his phone buzzed and he grabbed it back up to see a snap of a disheveled Alex praying to the coffee gods at his desk. 

Most days Henry was able to cope with the constant frustration, but then one night Alex called him about babysitting turkeys. Their first phone conversation was absolutely ridiculous and included Alex saying both the word “sensual” and “cute.” When it was time, Henry really needed to go to sleep, but they didn’t know how to hang up from a phone conversation yet.

“Okay,” Alex said softly. 

“Okay,” Henry agreed.

“Okay,” Alex said again, his voice sweet and electric. Henry knew that this was a ‘ _ no, you hang up first’  _ moment, and his face lit up with a lazy smile. His heart felt so big.

“Okay,” Henry repeated. “So. Good night.”

“Cool,” Alex said, almost a whisper. “Good night.”

When Alex texted him immediately after the conversation with the lame excuse of needing animal pictures, Henry began to realize that there was no way that Alex would stay oblivious for long. Worse, Henry knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no to the beautiful American boy once he finally figured it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having so much fun with this, hope you are too.
> 
> I borrowed one text convo from Claremont-holleran's incorrect on tumblr. The "yo what's your type" one. Because it was just perfect for what I have going on in this chapter. But yeah, they're the genius that came up with that.
> 
> Lemme know what you think and want!


	4. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The five days between Christmas and New Years. When they're at the party, Henry and June have a talk by the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thanks for the kudos, they brighten my day. I occasionally try to be humorous in this chapter, so we'll see if that worked for me. I laughed by myself at least (granted I'm an odd duck.) Anyways, for your reading pleasure...

Henry started to admit to himself what he had always known: they were inevitable. 

When Alex called him to talk about his parent’s fight on Christmas Eve, Henry wanted nothing more than to be there for him, as his best friend. He had been listening to Christmas madrigals and commiserating with Bea about the absurdity of how many christmas trees filled the palace, when his phone buzzed. A distressed and uncharacteristically apologetic Alex needed him. The younger man had nobody else to talk to and Henry’s heart swelled up with gratitude. He was the lucky person that Alex needed. He was allowed to listen and support. The intimacy of it! For the next couple days, he found himself reminding Alex to eat and sleep and he knew. He knew he was falling in love. 

It was all way too fast, but somehow, it was also slow. So gentle the way they opened up to each other, petal by petal. The five days between Christmas Eve and #YoungAmericanGala2019, when they would see each other in person, were slow and fast as well. There was enough time for the two boys to become lazily closer and closer, yet not nearly enough time to prepare Henry to see the first son in person.

For those five days, Alex was as goofy as ever, and more than once Henry would burst out laughing in the middle of a quiet teatime or stuffy meeting. Bea would give him a knowing look and Philip would glare. It came to a point that sometimes when Henry was in meetings he’d have to turn off his notifications, lest his phone would buzz every ten minutes. While they mostly exchanged stupid memes and mockingly combative comments, occasionally the tone of some texts were softer. 

When it’s 7:00am in London it’s 1:00am in Washington D.C. 

_Alex: so, what do you think the likelihood of me being able to fall asleep tonight is?_

_Henry: Did you have an entire pot of coffee after 8pm again?_

_Alex: well…_

_Henry: We may have found a cause for your insomnia then. You okay though?_

_Alex: yeah of course, why?_

_Henry: I worry about you sometimes… idk._

_Henry: Like, I’m here. You know?_

_Alex: awwwww yeah I know, man. ditto._

They continued with a conversation about nothing while Henry ate sipped his morning tea, and every 30 minutes, he told Alex he ought to try harder to go to sleep.This became a routine for them. Alex, unable to sleep and waking Henry up with morning memes. Henry getting dressed, eating breakfast, starting the day until around nine, when Alex would text something like “good night” or “I’m out :-P ” or one time, “sweet dreams xo”. Did he really think he was being sarcastic? 

One afternoon, it snowed in London. Kensington palace was so rarely covered in snow, and Henry felt that childish glee of first snow fall. He knew he could bear the cold if it meant he could see the long lines of winter light glittering through frosted trees. So he grabbed David and took him on a walk through the snowy rose garden. Bewitched by the magic of the winter wonderland, Henry succumbed to the impulse to call Alex. This was a first, so far they only talked when Alex called him. 

He distracted Alex from studying for hours. His heels were blistering by the time they hung up, because he hadn’t planned on such a long walk and his snow boots were new and stiff. That’s one way to break in shoes, he supposed. All at once, while wandering lovesick in the gardens. Oh how the blistered skin ached.

Come the morning of December 31st, Henry couldn’t figure out what to wear to the New Years Gala. He knew Alex was planning on a burgundy velvet suit (how queer, dear lord boy) and he was pretty sure the dress code to this type of party disallowed boring black ties. His simple tailored Gucci suit would be fine, but what to do about that vulnerable spot at his throat? In a panic, he begged Pez to help and they conspired with his stylist. An hour later, about two dozen ties covered his floor.

“This one,” Pez suggested holding up a bright, coppery mustard tie in a narrow cut.

“You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Definitely not,” Pez said, tying it around Henry’s neck in a half windsor. “And it’ll look fantastic next to Alex’s burgundy.”

“I’m sure that’s neither here nor there,” said Henry, looking in the mirror. Pez rolled his eyes, and collapsed onto the couch. Luckily the stylist’s expression was neutral as she cleaned up the discarded ties. Henry busied himself with helping her and switched the conversation to June which could reliably distract Pez indefinitely. 

As they flew across the Atlantic, Pez had to continually kick Henry to stop jiggling his legs. The nerves had him going batty and when he finally saw Alex, his nerves lit on fire. Once Alex spoke however, he remembered that they were best friends and his shoulders relaxed. This was the guy who had a Great Turkey Calamity after all.

“Nice tie,” Alex said. 

_Thanks, you look lovely too,_ thought Henry. He replied, “Thought I might be escorted off the premises for anything less exciting.”

It was so easy to flirt. So easy to walk, side by side through the crowd. To fall from conversation to easy conversation. To drink and dance and mingle. It was easy, even, to talk to June when she pulled him away from Alex to chat at the bar.

“So,” she said as the bartender gave them each a lemon drop shot. “What are your intentions with my baby brother?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Nope, try again,” June scolded him. “He likes you.”

Henry laughed, and let the vodka to loosen his tongue. “I know.” 

“He doesn’t know that he’s into guys yet though, does he?”

“I highly doubt it.”

“And he doesn’t know that you want to stargaze, and sing love ballads? Hold his hand and whisper sweet nothings?”

“I’m pretty sure he has no idea,” he agreed, ruefully. For a conversation about Henry’s deepest feelings, the mood was light. June seemed like a good type of person, the kind that he could be friends with. She reminded him of Bea, so maybe it’s a sister vibe that fueled their instant connection. 

She fakes a frown and pats the top of his head. “It’s a cruel joke the world’s playing on you, isn’t it?”

“It’s alright, I have a fantastic sense of humor.” Henry sloppily poured himself champagne. “I’m rather hilarious, actually.”

“Prove it,” she challenged.

Oh dear.

“Your brother is like dandruff,” he began. “In that no matter how hard I try, I can’t get him out of my head.”

June nearly fell off her bar stool, laughing. “That was possibly the worst joke I have ever heard.”

“And yet you can’t breathe for laughter,” said Henry, lifting an eyebrow. 

“You’re just lucky I’m drinking and in the holiday spirit.” They smiled at each other for a moment. “You know, I’m glad I invited you.”

“You invited me?” Henry asked. “Not Al-”

“No, no, Alex was far too nervous to invite the guy whose texts made him blush and giggle, like, fifty times a day.”

“Oh god.”

“Yes,” June said with a nod. “Speaking of, he’s staring at you again. You should probably attend to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my-”

“Maybe not yet.” She gave him a pensive look, suddenly sincere. “You might need to help him figure it out though.”

_Oh god._

And then there was Alex, coming to drag him back to the dance floor. Beautiful beautiful Alex. And Henry was just thinking about how June was right, how he wanted to hold Alex’s hand, and kiss under the stars. The fantasy of kissing progressed into more sensual imaginings as he watched Alex dance. What would those hips feel like, grinding against him? What would it feel like for Alex to run fingers through his hair?

When the ridiculous dancing American put his hands on Henry’s hips, it was nearly impossible to breathe. When Alex told Henry to look at him, he thought it was absurd to suggest that he’d be looking anywhere else. Stupid songs from the early 2000s filled the room, and Alex grabbed Henry by the lapel and ordered him to dance. In what must have been an act of mercy, Nora pulled Alex away to dance with her instead. As he jealously watched them grind, he imagined how it would feel to dance like that in public with somebody you like. He could never have that. Any relationship they could have would be doomed from the start. 

But still, they were inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? What do you think will happen next? WHO KNOWS!? (We all do actually, because this is canon compliant but shhh this is a cliff hanger.)


	5. The Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the countdown Henry has to take a breather. Of course, we all know that Alex is going to follow him and take his breath away all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is definitely not the first Henry's POV fic written about this scene, and nor will it be the last. But it is mine, so I hope you like it.

Henry’s body buzzed with energy. The changing, colorful lights reflected the slight sheen of sweat on Alex’s neck, and whenever their bodies brushed together, it became easier to dance. Easier to relax. The first son’s confidence was contagious and his lingering gaze sparkled with something undefinable. As he shamelessly focused his entire attention on Henry, the prince wondered if perhaps Alex wasn’t so oblivious after all.

Because, the thing was, Henry was about as subtle as Alex had been the first time they met at the Olympics. The champagne was getting to him, and his long stares and easy laughter must’ve been revealing his infatuation. And honestly, despite all his efforts to appear heterosexual, he would always kinda look like the type of bloke that reads Jane Austen novels. June knew he was gay, and judging by her knowing smiles, Nora had gathered that he was queer the same way he had gathered that she was. Was Alex really going to be the last to know? 

These blurry musings did not distract him from experiencing the night. He was alive, trying to dance, unsure what to do with his hands. Sure, it’s a bad idea to let anything happen… but maybe something small, something secret? Because maybe, finally, Alex was noticing that Henry’s orientation and the undefined sweetness between them. If so, it might be time to give in to their deliciously forbidden fate. 

When midnight rapidly approached, however, Henry’s carriage threatened to turn back into a pumpkin. Hundreds of voices in the White House chanted in unison:

“Ten, nine, eight…”

A small knot began to form in Henry’s stomach.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Everyone was about to kiss in a public and careless way that Henry would never be able to.

“Four! Three! TWO!”

What would it be like to kiss Alex, right here in front of everyone?

“ ONE!”

Alex and Nora kissed. The kind of kiss that told Henry they’d done it before. Ouch. 

But no, Nora and Alex used to date but not any more, he reminded himself. Alex would have mentioned if they were back together. Alex wanted him, and Henry _knew_ that Alex wanted him. As if to reinforce his certainty, Alex looked away from Nora so that he could smile that stupid, beautiful smile right at him. This was impossibly confusing. Carefully schooling his facial expression, Henry gripped his bottle of champagne and faded into the crowd.

He didn’t like crowds though, or the feeling of eyes on him when he was vulnerable. So he found himself outside, the burn of alcohol and heartache protecting him from the winter chill.

As a prince of England, whose role is mostly to symbolize western civilization, Henry was well versed in the classics. The ruthless stories that spoke of jealous gods. The love letters and poetry of Sapho, the endless homoerotic content. He could map the constellations in the night sky as easily as he could map out the corners and crinkles of Alex’s smile. 

But tonight the sky was solid gray with clouds, and even Orion, the easiest constellation to spot, was completely unavailable to him. The wintery sky held no answers and Alex was equally as opaque. The flirting and texting and calling and dancing and then… kissing Nora. Henry needed to know exactly how much Alex understood, but he couldn’t ask, couldn’t confess. 

Also, he was drunk.

The champagne reminded him of his brother’s wedding, how Alex had been drinking champagne then. And as per usual, thoughts of Alex and the royal wedding stirred up a familiar longing. Gay marriage was legalized in England and Wales in 2014, when Henry was 17 years old. The same year he settled completely into his gay identity. He’d become obsessed with Freddie Mercury, Oscar Wilde, and his first boyfriend. Then, as soon as he took his A levels, the Queen forbade him from coming out and informed him that his royal wedding would include a bride.

These discontented memories, combined with Alex’s mixed messages, made quite the cocktail for brooding.

“What’re you doing out here?” It was Alex, of course it was. How fitting. They were in the garden, and Alex was the forbidden fruit.

“Looking for Orion.”

“You must be really bored with the commoners to come out here and stare at the clouds.” Ha. How on earth could he be bored with this man on the loose?

“‘M not bored,” Henry mumbles. “What are _you_ doing out here? Doesn’t America’s golden boy have some swooning crowds to beguile?”

Henry knew, of course, that Alex was out there looking for him, wanting him. Maybe the kiss with Nora, and Alex’s smile afterwards, was a ploy to make Henry jealous. Maybe it was just for fun and meant nothing. Maybe he was trying to show Henry that he liked to keep things casual. Maybe he didn’t even think Henry would notice or care. Maybe--

“Says Prince fucking Charming,” Alex answered, smirking. Shameless. He _had_ to know what he was doing. Right? 

“Hardly.” Henry looked back up at the sky, praying for answers. Their hands brushed together, and thinking became impossible. 

“You didn’t really answer my question though.”

Well, maybe he had too many questions of his own. “You can’t ever leave well enough alone, can you?”

Henry should go back inside, ignore his feelings, protect himself from the answers that would destroy them both. He leant his head back against the tree, and let the alcohol and Alex’ intoxicating presence make him honest. “Sometimes it gets a bit… much.”

Alex nudged their shoulders together so gently that it broke his resolve. Every cell in his body wanted to trust Alex, to confide in him, to love him. But what did Alex want? 

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be some anonymous person out in the world?” Henry said.

“What do you mean?”

“Just, you know, If your mum weren’t the president and were just a normal bloke living a normal life, what things might be like? What you’d be doing instead?”

“Ah,” Alex said. “Well, I mean, obviously I’d be a model. I’ve been on the cover of Teen Vogue twice. These genetics transcend all circumstances. What about you?”

“I’d be a writer.” _Just tell Alex everything. Figure this out._ , said the champagne, his libido, and profound longing.

“Can’t you do that?”

“Not exactly seen as a worthwhile pursuit for a man in line for the throne, scribbling verses about quarter life angst,” Henry spilled. “Besides, the traditional family career track is military, so that’s about it, isn’t it?”

 _Say everything. Break the rules. It’s time._ He bit his lip, took a breath, and made a deliberate (albeit drunken) choice. _You like him, he wants you. Tell him._

“I’d probably date more as well.”

“Right, because it’s so hard to get a date when you’re a prince.”

Confused, Henry looked down at him. So, he didn’t know after all?

“You’d be surprised.”

“How? You’re not exactly lacking for options.”

So. He didn’t know, after all. That unbridled flirting was so free because Alex had no idea what he was doing. It was time to spell it out for him, just like June had suggested.

“The options I’d like… they don’t seem like options at all.”

“What?” Alex blinks in the cutest way, with a confused smile on his face that displayed his enamoured feelings so openly. Innocent desire filtered through brown eyes and flashed hot against Henry’s heart.

“I’m saying that I have… people” ( _-one person: you-_ ) “who interest me,” he continued, turning to face Alex, hoping that Alex could hear the loud _I’m gay! I’m gay!_ that was chanting in his head. If he didn’t say it explicitly maybe he wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences. “But I shouldn’t pursue them. At least not in my position.”

That was true, but Alex’s continued expression of confusion was joggling his sensibilities. His lips were parted in the sweetest way… _kiss him, kiss him._ How could it possibly be winter when his skin was so hot?

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

This wasn’t the first time Alex made him an honest man, and he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be the last.

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“You really don’t?”

“I really, really don’t.”

This would’ve been funny if it weren’t so frustrating. 

“Christ, you are as thick as it gets.” He looked up at the sky but found no starlight there.  
If he wanted clarity, he would have to find it on his own. Also, he really, really wanted to kiss Alex. 

So he did. 

And of course Alex kissed him back. They gave in, and truth flavored their kiss with the taste of catching snowflakes on your tongue. Or perhaps it tasted like a cool breeze on a hot day or like warming your hands near a winter bonfire. Or maybe Alex just tasted like a very human mouth, soft lips, a warm tongue. _Wow_. The silky tannins of truth with the fruity aroma of love; indescribable and magical.

But the truth is dangerous. Love is even worse. Henry pulled himself away from this inevitable heartbreak with such force that he stumbled.

“Fuck,” he said to the ground. “I’m just, shit. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t dare look at Alex’s face. He needed to get far away, very far away, so, with his mind in a fog, he practically ran away through the snow. He used to think that he knew what was going on in Alex’s head, until all this dancing and drinking and kissing. Now, he had to admit that his certainty was about as sure as his tipsy footing on this icy garden path. Now, Alex was the one who knew Henry’s truth. What was he supposed to do? Could he fight the inevitable after a kiss like that? Did he want to?

Finally, Henry knew. He knew that he had no fucking clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that. Now Alex can come out to himself, and yell at Henry for running away, and they can fall madly and stupidly in love. 
> 
> I'm loving being in Henry's head, and there are definitely more scenes and drabbles I plan on writing so keep an eye on me. Also, I don't know who would read it, but I want to do a little one-shot Liam backstory piece. I guess I can't get enough of oblivious Alex! Let me know your thought or if you have any requests :)
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


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